


Honor Roll

by Cendari



Series: You Can Let Go [3]
Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Hot Sex, Humor, Romance, Sam is a Sex God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cendari/pseuds/Cendari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Andy and Sam could have gotten together but didn't. Second Time: Honor Roll (Cross-posted on FF.net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honor Roll

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue. I'm just borrowing the characters for a little while *wink wink*

Sam is absolutely not lying in wait for his rookie to get back from wherever she'd gone with Diaz.

But he can't get the look on her face when she'd tried to come to him for help out of his head. Even a quick, reluctant glance into her eyes had shown him that she was stressed - and worried. And a touch scared.

And that freaks him out even more than if she'd been crying. Because if there was one thing he's learned about Andy McNally in the past few months, it's that the woman is damn near fearless. For all that he accuses her of over-thinking things, McNally has quickly gained a reputation around the division for jumping into things head-first, and dealing with any repercussions later.

What exactly has his nosy, headstrong rookie gotten herself into while he was sulking?

When she finally appears, Diaz close behind, Sam's heart sinks. He's been hoping, praying, that she would arrive with a bounce in her step, and that shy, self-satisfied smile (the one that never fails to charm him ever since his first encounter with it), flushed with the knowledge of a job well done.

Instead, she's pale, the corners of her eyes crinkled with stress, and the worry that had been barely veiled earlier has turned into full-blown anxiety. But what turns the blood in his veins to ice is the fear in her eyes.

McNally has been seriously spooked by something or someone, and that instantly puts that person or thing on the top of Sam's list of People and/or Things That Must Be Destroyed. His temper begins to simmer; it hadn't taken the other coppers long to figure out that if you mess with McNally, you'd better make sure you have a will written out, because Sam Swarek can be one stone cold, scary-ass motherfucker when he wants to be.

McNally's gaze lands on Sam and he nearly flinches when her eyes fill with hurt - he'd bungled things badly that morning by refusing to hear her out (and why in God's name had he taken Callaghan's word as gospel?).

She draws even with him, apparently intending to swan past without acknowledging his existence - which he kinda deserves, in all honesty - but he doesn't give her the chance, grasping her nearest arm just above the elbow and towing her along to an unoccupied interrogation observation room. Sam shuts the door in Diaz's face and releases his grip on her arm as she angrily spins to face him, her temper automatically flaring.

"Before you say anything, McNally, I'm a stupid, stubborn asshole, and I'm sorry I blew you off earlier." Like magic, the resentment in her eyes all but vanishes, though a lot of the hurt remains. "I was looking for you when I got in this morning, but Callaghan caught me first; he asked me to make sure you got out of here on time and told me in no uncertain terms that there wasn't going to be any actual fishing going on and that it was all your idea."

He watches with fascination as her facial expressions run the gamut from hurt, to embarrassed, and finally to more than a little outrage. "Two months ago!" she bursts finally. "He told me about it and I said that we should go up there some weekend. You really think that I want to take a three-hour round trip my first day back after I... after I...?" For a fraction of a second, her breath hitches and her chin wobbles and then the Andy he'd first met - the one who stood alone and refused to admit to needing help - is back in charge. And, boy, is she pissed off.

He has the grace to look sheepish. "I wasn't exactly thinking clearly," he admits.

"No, you weren't! Instead you tried to beat him to a pulp, and broadcast to the entire division that something's going on! Just because you were feeling sorry for yourself, and in the meantime Chris and I-...!" she cuts herself off as unshed tears sparkle on her lashes. It's been a long, trying day and while Bibby's threat hadn't really scared her, she's worried that the whole thing will get swept under the rug and she and Chris will be thrown under a bus.

"You and Diaz what, McNally?"

His calm, firm tone reassures her, gives her strength; the hurtful, dismissive jackass from that morning is gone, and the Sam who has become her trusted mentor, defender, and friend is back; he's going to pry every single detail out of her, and then he's going to help her figure out what to do about it all. She starts talking - by the time she describes tracking down the brothers to the bar, Sam pulls Chris in to help and locks the door.

After they finish laying everything out on the metaphorical table, Sam scrubs his hands through his hair and down over his face. "Jesus," he mutters, "what a mess."

Chris looks over at Andy uncertainly - being less familiar with Swarek's personality traits and mostly intimidated by him (especially after seeing the way he'd destroyed Detective Callaghan earlier) means that he doesn't know what to expect from the volatile older officer, especially when Swarek's jaw and fists clench so hard his knuckles turn white when Chris details Bibby's final threat against them - and is surprised to see her posture rapidly relaxing as she keeps her gaze on her training officer. Diaz isn't really sure what she sees right now but it reassures him when the aura of tense frustration palpably leaches from her. Granted, he is still more than a little amazed that Swarek believes them without question, except to clarify a detail they might have glossed over.

What kind of a rapport has Andy managed to build up with Swarek that he automatically trusts her word, even when it's about something like this - especially after the blown cover fiasco?

"Here's what we're going to do," Swarek decides, "you two are going gather all your notes together, write up full statements, and give them to me along with the pages from your notebooks." He holds up his hand when Andy's expression takes on a mutinous cast. "And then you're going to forget all about this. I will make sure that the information gets into the right hands, and I want you two to be well clear of the fallout when the shit hits the fan. Understood?"

"But, Sam!" Andy protests.

"McNally, I failed you on several counts today, especially as your Training Officer; let me do this much to make it up to you. You two shouldn't have had to do this alone and if there's going to be a whistle-blower around here, it's damn well going to be me. Diaz?"

"I'll have everything ready for you by tomorrow morning, sir," Chris confirms quietly.

"Good man," Swarek approves. "I need another word with McNally. And remember, not a word about this to anyone."

Chris agrees and flees for cover. He has a feeling about Andy's current mood, and he doesn't want to be anywhere near the impact crater when she explodes.

Sure enough, the moment Diaz leaves them alone, Andy turns to let Sam have it with both barrels. And, once again, Sam cuts her off with a wave of his hand. "McNally, it'll be fine. Okay? When I tell them that I heard rumors of a dirty cop while I was UC and have been spending the past few months quietly looking into it, nobody will think twice. I can say that I had you and Diaz running down a few leads for me today after you told me about finding the kid beaten up while I was stuck in retraining."

"I don't like it, Sam."

The look in his eyes is gentle as he tucks her bangs behind her ear. "You don't have to. The brass is used to me causing trouble, and I've been around long enough and done enough for them that they won't second-guess me coming to them with evidence of a dirty cop like they would you and Diaz. Just trust me, would you?"

"I _do_ , Sam," she insists, which is a balm on his battered heart. "You know I do, which is why I'm not going to let you do this alone." She rolls her eyes when he protests. "I know you're going to be taking blame instead of scooping glory, but I wouldn't have made it this far without you, Sam. I can't be the kind of cop Luke is - where you don't see people, just evidence and witnesses - but I come in every day hoping to become just a little more like the kind of cop you are. You, who blew your entire case against Anton Hill, just to get his accountant to safety."

Sam is more touched by her declaration than he has words to express. He's gotten used to pretending that he doesn't notice the hero-worship that she and the other rookies try to hide, but Andy has been far too cagey to come right out and say what she's really thinking until now. "Andy," he says, his tone tinged with quiet amazement.

"I'm selfish, Sam. I don't want anybody else to be my training officer, and letting you do this alone could very well jeopardize that. I'll start stalking you, Sam; I'll make sure you never get a few minutes alone with Frank to blow the whistle."

Sam can't stop the quick smile any more than he can stop breathing. "Promise?" At her blank look his smile widens. "To start stalking me? I'll make sure I never close any of my blinds or windows ever again."

Her jaw drops at his blatant teasing and she punches his shoulder hard even as the tips of her ears turn pink. "You know what I meant!"

"Do I?"

Andy punches him again in the same spot while her cheeks take on the same flush. "Pervert," she accuses mildly.

Sam exaggerates his wince of pain and holds his shoulder. "Ow!" he complains, watching her lips twitch with a reluctant smile. He takes advantage of her improved mood to gently cup her cheek in his hand, "Andy, the worst that will happen to me is I get stuck in an interview room for a day to give a statement and get the ball rolling. There will be grumbling from the masses, but nothing like what would happen if you and Diaz did it."

Andy nods. She has an inkling of what he means, remembering her father's tales of what was done in the past to cops that ratted out other cops. Only those with clout or brass behind them manage to come out relatively unscathed.

The police force is supposed to be a brotherhood, one that protects each other at all costs. But what are they supposed to do when one brother goes bad, turning his back on the rest and the ideals they have sworn to uphold?

It's a conundrum, one Andy has yet to solve, but one thing she knows for certain is that Detective Bibby is a bad, dangerous man who, despite his confidence that nobody will believe a pair of rookies, has been backed into a corner. It doesn't matter that nobody might listen to them - Andy and Chris have evidence of his crimes. Evidence that he would be smart to make sure doesn't fall into the wrong hands.

Apparently Sam has been thinking along the same lines because he fixes her with a basilisk stare, "You and Diaz don't go anywhere alone until Bibby's in custody, understand? Especially you. In fact, I happen to have a spare room that you can hide out in until this blows over."

"I am not afraid of him!" Andy retorts indignantly. "And I don't hide from anybody, least of all him!"

"You should be afraid, because desperate men do desperate things, and you could get caught in his crosshairs if he decides to try to bury this," Sam warns her solemnly. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Her hand moves up to cover his where it still rests against her cheek and her eyes drift shut. "I know you don't, Sam. But if you're worried about me staying alone, I can stay with Luke just as easily as you."

He blinks to give himself time to hide his instinctive reaction to her suggestion, which is hurt and jealousy. "You could, Andy; except how many times have you complained to me that he's barely around? That's some protection job when he falls asleep at his desk more nights than not, still leaving you to fend for yourself. And as you saw earlier, Callaghan's not exactly up-to-date on his dirty fighting skills."

Andy can see his point, remembering the way he'd destroyed Luke during their bout. She also can't bunk with Traci, because that could put Leo at risk; Dov and Chris' place is completely out too, simply because it's stupid to put two potential targets in the same place; and Andy wouldn't approach Gail for a place to stay if her life depended on it.

Which it doesn't. Yet.

"All right," she sighs. "You win." To Sam's credit, the triumph that surges through his body doesn't show on his face, though his eyes glow a bit brighter. "Now, are you going to trust me out of your sight in this building full of cops?"

Her sarcasm is more than evident and Sam retaliates by lightly pinching her hip. "Considering the way you attract trouble, McNally, I'm not sure if I could trust you in a straitjacket."

Andy makes a face at him and moves towards the door. Her hand on the lock, she turns back slightly to look at him. "Are we okay, Sam?"

His chest burns with the force of his unrequited affections, his gut churns with guilt at the way he'd treated her this morning, and his head aches at the sheer magnitude of how badly he misread her and her actions last week. And they still need to talk about what happened, both about the shooting and what happened between them in the aftermath. Sam really just wants to find a bottle of scotch and drown his breaking heart in it, so he gives her a small smile, "We still have to talk," he reminds her, eliciting a wince, "but I think we will."

Her answering smile is equally small but it damn near blinds him with its radiance. She opens the door and exits, leaving Sam to deal with his chaotic emotions alone. There are days that he honestly wonders if he has the strength to accept an opportunity with Guns & Gangs, knowing that he won't be able to fully entrust Andy's well-being to anybody else, and that he will worry about her in his every waking moment despite his best efforts.

Sam whirls around and punches the wall. "Christ, what a mess." With a bit of effort, he puts his best poker face on and leaves the observation room.

RBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRB

Sam pulls into his driveway and kills the engine. Andy, unusually subdued, sits in the passenger seat with her overnight bag at her feet. Not for the first time, he regrets shooting down her suggestion to stay with Callaghan until the potential threat that Bibby presents has been eliminated.

However, that option is now out if her silence and Callaghan's angry glares mean anything. He had been busy composing himself and so had missed most of the fireworks, but apparently after leaving him in the observation room Andy had pulled Callaghan into his office, locked the doors to prevent eavesdropping, and confessed all, including the distraught almost-sex with her TO.

The fallout was spectacular. When Andy defended herself by pointing out that he'd barely looked in on her before rushing off to go digging for bones, taking her token phrase of "I'm fine" as gospel, Callaghan nearly exploded. Suddenly, Sam's challenging the Detectives to take part in Retraining and the cat-and-mouse game he'd played during their match made too much sense and Luke had connected the dots a lot faster than Sam had given him credit for.

Accusations were flung, names called, and loyalty called into question, but the end result was the same: when he nastily insinuated that she had been two-timing him and Swarek the entire time, Andy laid Callaghan out with a vicious left cross (one that had her audience of coworkers cheering, cat-calling and exchanging money), and she walked out of the office a single woman.

So far, the pros are outweighing the cons, as far as Sam is concerned. Of course, he is plotting an appropriate level of vengeance (and has every intention of soliciting Oliver's help - it's their duty as Training Officers to stick up for their rookies, after all - and it'll give the guy something to do while stuck in the hell of daytime television).

"That was a hell of punch you laid on Callaghan," he finally offers admiringly. Apparently she'd paid attention while Nash trained for Fite Night.

There is a beat of silence before he sees the corners of her lips turn up.

"Andy," Sam says quietly, "if he can't understand that you were extremely distressed over your first shooting, and only came to see me because he was unavailable, he doesn't deserve you."

"Not only because he was unavailable," she corrects after an even longer pause. "Even if he had stuck around, I probably would have waited until he fell asleep and then come over anyway."

Sam isn't sure he really wants to have this conversation in his truck, but since she is finally talking he's loath to stop her. "Why, Andy? Why me?"

Her lashes sparkle with unshed tears when she finally looks at him. "Because I knew you would make me feel better. That you could keep the darkness away, even if only for a little while. I didn't come here intending to jump you, Sam, I promise. I just... You opened the door and you were so concerned, and Luke just wasn't, and I felt so dead inside... I just wanted to feel alive again."

Sam closes his eyes against her pain. She isn't the first person to try to drown the pain of death in sex, the ultimate affirmation of life, nor will she be the last. He should have stopped her as soon as he realized what she was doing - should have tried to teach her other, more constructive ways of dealing - but she'd essentially skunked him, and, in doing so, caused his higher brain function to simply shut down. "I'm sorry, Andy. I should have stopped us long before we made it to the bedroom; that's all on me. But why did you run? Why did you go back to him after all that?"

Her mouth twists and Sam recognizes the expression as guilt and regret. "If it had just been the power, I probably would have stayed. But while you were turning things off, Luke called, and I woke up.

"I was damned no matter what I did. As great as it would have been, having sex with you that night would have changed a lot of things between us, some probably not for the better. It also would have made me a cheater, and I have never deliberately or knowingly cheated on anyone or anything," Andy declares.

Sam acknowledges that truth; Andy's unfailing honesty is one of her most endearing but frustrating qualities. "And you went back to him because?"

"Because you scare the living hell out of me," she replies with a rueful laugh. "Even when I was drowning, you made me feel more alive with a few kisses than I had in months of regular sex with Luke. Acknowledging that little detail out loud meant having to admit that I deliberately got involved with Luke because I knew I wouldn't be able to let him all the way in, that he wouldn't be able to break my heart when the end came."

Sam raises the console between them and slides closer, taking her left hand in his right, trying to let her know without words that he's there for her.

"But you," she says, giving him a sideways glance through her lashes, "you wouldn't settle for anything less than all of me. You see everything - good, bad, strengths, flaws, everything; a relationship with you would be an all or nothing deal, and I'd do it. I could let myself get so wrapped up that I wouldn't know where I end and you begin, and when you finally decided that you'd had enough of me and my emotional baggage and left it would kill me."

Sam lifts his free hand and cups her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the tear that escapes. He knows that she won't believe all the assurances in the world that he won't ever get tired of her. Experience has taught her that everybody leaves sooner or later - starting with her mother walking out and her father trying to find absolution at the bottom of a bottle - and it's all just a matter of time. Not long after her family abandoned her, Andy had vowed that she would never be the one left behind to pick up the pieces again.

And so, in every relationship since, once she starts feeling the inklings of something more, something stronger, than the initial attraction, Andy bolts. If the guy is stubborn enough to follow her, she pushes and pushes and pushes until he finally has enough and lets her run.

But Andy's feet are getting tired; Callaghan is the first time she consciously tried to get past it. He was supposed to be her healthy, adult relationship that would teach her how to function in real-world relationships with real grown-ups (instead of the callow boys she had previously associated with).

Sam sighs, considering his words carefully - if he says this wrong she might bolt on him again, and his heart will shatter into a million tiny pieces. "I can't promise you I'll never leave," he says quietly, "not in this job, when I could piss off the wrong person, or eat a bullet, or get run over by someone who doesn't want a ticket." She stiffens under his hands, but Sam keeps stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"I can promise you that I will fight until my very last breath, with everything in me, to keep coming home. I can promise that if you start feeling trapped, all you have to do is talk to me. I can promise you that if you try to run, I'll handcuff you to my bed until that need goes away. Can you accept those promises, Andy?"

She draws in a slow, shuddering breath, and Sam tries to prepare himself to follow her when she bolts. One second he's looking at her, the next she's launched herself into his lap, wrapping her arms around his torso so tightly the back of his mind is making unflattering comparisons to boa constrictors. Andy is mumbling something into his neck and Sam strains to hear what she is saying even as he dips his head to rest on top of hers and hugs her even more tightly to him.

The tears she had earlier refused to let fall now start to leak into his shirt and skin but Sam is beyond caring when he finally understands what she's saying: "Yes" repeated over and over. Eventually she stops her mantra and hiccups for several moments before she sobs and proceeds to cry her heart out for the first time since waking up a week before her 11th birthday to discover her mother had disappeared into the night.

Andy cries for her mother, who had been cheating on her dad but hadn't gotten the guts to leave him before she got pregnant with her lover's child.

She cries for her father, who had started drinking in the aftermath of his wife's abandonment of them, and kept drinking when his grief started to negatively affect his work. And who kept drinking even after that, because it was easier to do so than own up to his failings.

But most of all, Andy cries for herself. For the little girl that had been forced to grow up and fend for herself at such a young age; for the young woman that desperately needed her mother's touch and advice, and her father's unwavering protection; for the fear of abandonment and rejection that had driven her into relationships that she knew wouldn't last; for being unable to stop the vicious cycle.

Andy cries over the man she had killed - for the loss of the last of her innocence - and for Luke, with whom she has honestly tried to make things work, even though she couldn't seem to get her training officer's smile out of her head.

And she cries for Sam, who has managed to put his feelings for her aside, even as he consistently goes the extra mile in helping her become the cop she is meant to be (she doesn't count earlier that day), and has listened patiently while she talked about Luke, never once letting on that it bothers him or that her continuing, deliberate obliviousness is tearing his heart to pieces.

Sam holds her tightly, rubbing her back, and encourages her to to just let it out. He knows better than most how dangerous it is to just hold everything in, to shove all the bad things into a box and never actually deal with it - his parents had dragged Sarah to a psychologist after her attack, despite her protests, and after several months of no progress they agreed to let her stop. Instead of trying to deal with it on her own, Sarah had attempted to pretend it never even happened, despite being terrified of her own shadow. Even with anti-anxiety medication, the resultant panic attacks had been epic.

By the time she starts to calm down, sniffling and hiccuping all the while, Sam is even more deeply in love with her, if that's even possible. Andy snuffles again and draws away, turning pink with embarrassment when she takes in the damage to his shirt. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, turning her face away to wipe at the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"Hey." Sam catches her chin in his hand and turns her back to look into her eyes. "Don't ever be sorry for showing me your emotions. They're as much a part of you as that left cross, and I'm honored that you trust me enough to share them with me."

Her smile is slow and limited to her eyes but it lights up the night and turns his insides to mush. She cups his cheek, evening stubble and all, and caresses his cheekbone with her thumb. "I do, you know. I don't know how you did it, but one day I took a peek inside my heart and there you were, pretending you'd been there all along." Andy leans in and softly kisses his other cheek. "There's a patient, gentle, kind," she says, pressing equally light kisses across his face with each compliment, "sweetheart with a teacher's soul hiding under all that bad-boy bravado and grouchiness. You're a good man, Sam Swarek."

Despite his best intentions, a man can only take so much torture; his gruff retort about needing to keep his rep intact is lost as Sam turns his head to capture Andy's lips in a kiss that burns with intensity. He lingers for a moment and then breaks away with a gasp that she echoes. "I'm sorry; I didn't intend to do that," he admits, deliberately not looking at her.

He thanks god for her inherent practicality a second later when she doesn't take offence. Instead, Andy turns his face back to hers so he can see the serene smile taking up residence on her expression. She reaches up and brushes his mouth with a butterfly's caress and sits back again, still comfortably secure in his embrace. "Don't be. I'm not."

Whatever Sam is going to say next gets interrupted by the monster yawn that escapes Andy, who is totally exhausted by the long, emotionally trying day. He chuckles indulgently instead and moves her back into her own seat before he slides into the driver's seat to remove his keys from the ignition before opening his door. Andy gathers her things and slips out the other side, leaning against the door once she closes it behind her.

Sam rounds the hood and takes in the sight of her - one minute she's a seductive temptress, the next an adorably sleepy little girl as she rubs her eyes with a fist. Not normally especially fond of physical contact, he can't resist taking her bag as he presses a fond kiss to her temple and wraps his arm around her for support. "Come on, you daredevil, let's get you into a bed, shall we?"

Given how drained she is, Sam decides to save the tour for the morning - he shows her to the spare room, and then to the bathroom where she changes and scrubs the day off her face while he scrambles to put sheets on the bed.

Andy appears in the doorway while he's fluffing pillows, dressed in only a pair of gym shorts and a tank top; her face has been cleansed of all makeup, her hair pulled back into a loose braid, and Sam thinks that she has never looked more appealing than she does right now. He pulls the covers back and ushers her into bed, tucks her in, and gently combs a few loose strands of hair away from her face as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"Get some sleep," Sam murmurs.

Andy's fighting to keep her eyes open but she finds enough energy to ask him to stay until she falls asleep. She hooks her fingers into his sleeve and tugs him down towards her so he'll get her unspoken point, even as she shifts backwards so he has room to lie down.

Right now, Andy could ask for his heart on a platter and he would probably ask if she wanted it on a silver platter or a gold one, so Sam lays down next to her and comes to rest on his side, facing her and sharing her pillow. She shifts just a bit closer so as to be fully enveloped in the body heat the human-shaped furnace beside her is giving off. "Thank you, Sam - for everything."

He presses a tender kiss to her forehead and trails his lips down to lightly peck the tip of her nose, getting a sleepy giggle for his efforts. "Good night, Andy."

She yawns in his face and snuggles deeper into the plush pillow he found for her; she's warm and safe in his house, (technically) in his bed, surrounded by the scent and the heat of him, and despite the stress from today and the inevitable fallout, Andy has never been so content. Between one breath and the next, she's asleep.

Once he's sure she's out, Sam reluctantly peels himself away from her side and finds his own bed, which now feels impossibly large and empty without the larger-than-life woman sleeping down the hall.

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep.

AMSSAMSSAMSSAMSS

At some point Sam swims into wakefulness with the distinct sensation of being watched. Groggy, he peels his eyelids open far enough to make out the familiar female shape silhouetted in his doorway. "Andy? What's wrong?"

She starts, suddenly guilty at waking him up and getting caught, and falters but Sam waves her in; Andy moves forward on light feet, trying hard not to remember what happened the last time she was in here, and crouches beside the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you," she murmurs.

"S' fine," he replies around a yawn. "What's up?"

If she were standing, Andy probably would have played with her hair and shuffled her feet uncomfortably - as it is, her hands come up to fiddle with the tail of her braid, now hanging over her shoulder. "I had a nightmare," she explains haltingly, "that it was you I shot last week. I just-... I just needed to make sure you're really here and okay."

Sam doesn't bother telling her about all the times he dreamed about her escapades - only in the nightmares she doesn't escape and he's usually trapped and helpless to stop it. For the last week, it's mostly been that pedophile standing over her bullet-riddled body in the basement of the rec centre instead of the other way around.

Needless to say, he understands and flips open the covers on the other side of the bed in unspoken invitation. Andy scurries around and dives in next to him – the way she's shivering as she pulls the blankets over her and cuddles in next to him tells Sam that this isn't the first nightmare she's had about this and that she resisted asking for comfort for longer than he would like.

Sam rolls over and fits them together, his back to her front, and curls protectively around her, wrapping his arm around her waist and splaying his hand over her belly. Between the solid presence of him behind around her, the heat of his body, and largely nonsense phrases he's rumbling in her ear, Andy quickly relaxes and settles herself against him with a long exhalation.

The kiss he presses to her bare shoulder is soothing, surprisingly enough, reassuring her more than words ever could that he's not going anywhere. "Go to sleep, Andy."

She sleepily grumbles something about him not being the boss of her even as she can feel her body start to obey. Sam gently shushes her and replies with another nuzzle and kiss to her shoulder. Andy finally really and truly feels safe for the first time in recent memory and she drifts off, wrapped securely in his arms.

RBRBRBRBRBRBRBRB

Andy wakes not long after the sun rises, bathing Sam's room in a warm golden glow. They're still in the same position they fell asleep in, spooned together, and she can feel his even breaths waft across her neck and shoulder, causing an involuntary shiver.

Over the course of the night, Sam's hand has moved up her ribcage far enough that his fingertips are just barely skimming the bottom of her breast and there's something poking her in her back...

Andy's eyes get wide – since she lost her virginity, the only morning-after she's had is the kind with the awkward conversation when the person whose bed she had abandoned tracks her down. She's heard about this "morning-wood" phenomenon, but has never been in the position to experience one first-hand.

She can't stop herself from easing from Sam's grip and turning over to peer under the covers, a nearly silent giggle escaping her at the sight of the tented fabric of his shorts. She's just considering reaching for an exploratory manual examination when male hand grabs the covers from her, forcing them down even as Sam rolls onto his stomach. "Sorry," he mutters, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Andy nearly gapes with astonishment as she watches him. Is the cool, calm, completely unflappable Sam Swarek blushing? His cheeks turn pink too as he looks back at her, trying to keep a nonchalant expression on his face even as the proof of his embarrassment spreads further.

She's so charmed and intrigued that she forgets to laugh at him; what she really wants to do right now is offer to take care of the problem for him, but that path leads to uncharted territory. Andy has never been in this position before: she's never really taken the time to get to know somebody as well as she's starting to know Sam before falling into bed with them, and she's uncertain of the path she should take.

After the way he responded to her when she jumped him last week, Andy knows that attraction isn't a problem on either side, but how to tell him what she wants without having to put herself out there for rejection?

Sam reads the indecision on her face and takes the opportunity to disappear into his ensuite bathroom, leaving her to her thoughts. Andy pouts when he vanishes, but realizes that overall it's for the best. Now that she's not seeing somebody else, they have all the time in the world to explore this new dynamic in their relationship.

"Andy, what time is it?" he calls through the closed bathroom door.

She looks around and finds an alarm clock, surprised to see just how early it is compared to how refreshed she feels. "Just after five," she replies, her tone silently asking "why?".

"Get dressed and we'll go for a run," he suggests back. She obviously likes the idea because his room is devoid of her presence by the time he emerges. Sam throws on a loose t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants, grabbing a well-worn academy sweatshirt as an afterthought.

Andy is waiting for him in the front hall, nearly bouncing with anticipation and excess energy. Her wardrobe nearly matches his, except her sweatshirt is tied around her waist and is a lot newer than his is. Sam pauses long enough to grab his keys, wallet and cell phone from the small table by the door, and bends to pull on his running shoes, nearly jerking upright with surprise when Andy pats his ass lightly as she brushes past him out the door.

She's already stretching on his lawn by the time he locks up, and Sam is momentarily distracted by the play of sunlight on skin when she raises her arms above her head and her shirt rides up. He deliberately does not think about the time not that long ago when he saw her without a shirt at all.

She looks up and very carefully does not smirk when she notices his stupefaction. "Are you coming, slow poke?"

 _Not yet._ The lascivious thought wakes Sam up and he shakes the cobwebs from his brain as he lightly descends his front steps to join her in the yard. They stretch for a few minutes more before taking off in a slow jog down the sidewalk, effortlessly matching strides. They gauge each other's ability and then Andy throws down the gauntlet by speeding up.

She hears Sam laugh, and then he's right beside her again, easily keeping up with the increased pace. The first mile flies by and then it's Sam's turn to jack up the speed as he leads her to a well-hidden jogging path that wends around a large park.

Andy gives a dismissive "ha!" and rapidly catches up. Their breath is coming faster now, though still not nearly labored, and they fall into a companionable silence, still matching strides.

By the time they turn back down Sam's street, they are neck-and-neck in an all-out sprint down the block. At the last minute, Sam pulls ahead and slaps his hand to the side of his truck a split second before Andy can. Panting with exertion, he puts his hands on his head and walks out a stitch in his side as Andy simply locates the softest-looking patch of grass she can find and collapses on her back, arms and legs akimbo, as she tries to catch her breath.

Sam performs a few cursory stretches to keep his muscles from cramping up, and then checks the time. He nudges her foot with his own, chuckling at the way she deliberately goes completely limp, "Come on, lazybones, we're running a bit late."

Andy sits up with more than a little reluctance and an exaggerated groan, and pouts at him. "Do we have to go to work?" she asks, holding her hands out to be helped up.

Sam complies with her silent request and tows her into the house without bothering to respond. He fetches them each a bottle of water from the fridge and downs half of his in one swallow; Andy pauses while she watches the muscles of his throat work. When a drop of water escapes and rolls down his front, she swallows hard against the desire to follow its path with her tongue and busies herself with her own water.

By the time she finishes, Sam has already started a pot of coffee and shows her where he keeps the spare towels; Andy barely restrains the urge to offer to conserve water and towels and limits herself to watching him walk away to his own bathroom and shower.

Not long after he vanishes into his bedroom, Andy hears the water start up and has to try to put aside the image of him naked and wet. Those broad shoulders and strong arms, the muscled chest and stomach (that have only gained more definition since the first time she saw them), that dusting of hair across his pectorals and down his belly, trim hips, runner's legs...

Andy comes back to herself to find the fingers of one hand teasing a newly hardened nipple and her panties growing damp, and makes a split-second decision to stop over-thinking things and just go with her gut.

She leaves a trail of clothes from the kitchen to his bathroom door, and pauses for a second to steel her nerves before opening it. The door is already cracked open a bit, so she doesn't have to worry about him hearing it, and steam is starting to roll out in waves.

She opens the door wide enough to peer in and freezes: blurry behind the glass of the shower door is a familiar figure, one hand braced above his head on the wall, and the other is...

_Holy crap._

Andy hears a moan that sounds an awful lot like her name and her belly clenches as a rush of lubrication appears between her thighs. Another groan breaks her out of her reverie and she's moving towards the shower before she has time to think about it.

Sam freezes when he feel a rush of cold air and then two slender arms are circling around his waist, one coming to rest on his stomach, and the left moving to join his own hand on his cock. There's a soft kiss on the back of his neck before an all-too-familiar voice is murmuring in his ear, "Let me take care of that for you."

Her hand moves tortuously slowly, stroking him from base to tip, dislodging his hand, and ends with a firm pass of her thumb over the head. He exhales through his teeth at the sensation and lets his head fall back; she gets his earlobe between her lips and worries it in her teeth, sucking it with just enough pressure to make him cry out her name while her hand keeps doing evil things between his legs.

"Were you thinking of me just now? While you were doing this?" she asks in a tone so low and husky it makes him twitch. The hand on his stomach drags down the trail of hair and moves below to cup his sac. "Were you, Sam?"

His affirmation rumbles through his chest like it's being dragged out of him and he can suddenly feel the points of her nipples pressing into his back. His free hand comes back to cup her flank and pull her body more tightly against his, and she suddenly tightens her grip around him, her hand never slowing. Her right hand gently rolls the globes of his testicles within their sac as if testing their weight.

"Talk to me, Sam," she instructs, her voice so low he can barely hear her over the spray of water, "tell me what you want."

Her words are galvanizing and Sam pulls her hands away from his body with no little regret before he whirls around and pins her against the shower wall, sealing his mouth over hers. "You," he breathes when they separate. "Just you."

Her smile is radiant and her eyes light up and she leans in for another kiss. "Good," she murmurs against his lips, "because I want you, too."

Sam wraps his arms around her and lifts her with an ease that takes her breath away. Andy's legs twine around his waist as he reaches between them and positions himself, teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock. "Are you sure, Andy? If we do this there's no going back."

She uses what little leverage she has to sink down a little, stopping when only the broad head of his erection is inside her, and quirks an eyebrow at him. "How's that for an answer?"

Sam captures her lips for another breath-stealing, tongue-tangling, soul-melter of a kiss as he lowers her body onto him, filling her completely. They break apart with twin moans when he is barely but fully sheathed - she's hot and tight, her inner muscles rippling as they struggle to accommodate this long, thick invader. Gasping, Andy seals her lips over his pulse point and suckles hard, jolting when he twitches deep inside her.

"Sam?" she whines, unsure of how much more she can take. She's so full she can feel every line and ridge of his magnificent shaft, but right now she just needs him to move.

He understands and slowly pulls out until he almost leaves her completely, and then surges back inside, making her yodel as her head falls back against the tiles, baring her throat to his eager gaze. Sam sets up a smooth, driving rhythm as he kisses and sucks his way down her neck and chest.

Andy is whimpering by the time he closes his lips around one raspberry-colored nipple, her nails digging into his shoulders and back. He frees one hand and moves it between them to the place they are joined, coming to rest on her lower belly as his thumb gently but firmly rubs her clitoris.

Andy keens his name, her sheath tightening around him; he feels a corresponding clenching in his lower back and abandons his pursuit of her breasts to kiss her breathlessly. He breaks away and lowers his lips to her ear, rumbling praises and compliments on how pretty she is, how hot and tight and wet, how perfect she is, how good she feels around him.

At the same time Sam tightly pinches that bundle of nerves between his thumb and forefinger, and she plummets over the precipice. Andy cries out again, repeating his name amidst calls to God, her whole body shuddering around him.

The sight is so fantastic Sam wants to watch her do it again. He never lets up his thrusting into her, even as she writhes and whimpers, and keeps stroking that little bundle of nerves, driving her ever higher. "Again," he orders when she moans his name. His actions keep her on the edge, constantly shaking with little climaxes as he revs her up for a big finale. His testicles draw in close to his body in preparation for the coming explosion and Sam knows he doesn't have a lot of time left.

Sam bottoms out inside her at the same time that he presses down on her clit, hard, and sinks his teeth into her shoulder. Andy screams as she erupts into a full-body orgasm, one that seems to go on forever, those fantastic inner muscles of hers rippling and convulsing, milking him, and Sam obliges with a shout. Feeling the hot pulses of his release deep in her belly rockets Andy into another mini-orgasm.

When it's all over, Andy, completely wrung out and totally sated, drapes her arms limply over Sam's back and buries her face in the curve of his neck, listening to his thundering heartbeat as it gradually slows and calms. Sam, not feeling too steady himself, shuffles over to the built-in ledge and sits, carefully arranging Andy's limbs.

He smooths his hands up and down her sides and back, intending to soothe rather than arouse. "Gonna live?"

There's a long pause during which he starts to think that she might have actually fallen asleep before Andy stirs a little, settling herself more comfortably before going limp again. "Andy's not in right now," she slurs against his neck, "having just been sexed into next month. Please try back again next year." A sleepy whimper escapes when her pillow shakes with suppressed laughter.

"Come on," he says with a pat to her bottom, "we're going to be late if we don't get moving."

"Don't wanna."

Sam rises and gently sets her down, silently agreeing with her disappointed protest when his softened member slips out of her, seating her back on the ledge in deference to her still wobbly knees. He grabs the shower-head, thankfully still blasting hot water, from its holder and directs the spray towards her down-turned head, wetting her hair. Then he reaches for his shampoo and washes her hair, inwardly marveling at the silken texture while being careful to not let any of the suds get into her eyes.

Finally, thankful that he prefers general body wash and not some stuff that reeks of cologne, he bathes her, washing away the evidence of their prior activities. Well, he reconsiders with an internal smile, eyeing the darkening hickeys dotting her neck and shoulders and feeling the claw marks she left on his back, maybe not all the evidence.

By the time he finishes rinsing, Andy has started the road back to full awareness and is watching him with a soft smile on her face and a serene look in her eyes. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead and one to the tip of his nose; Sam tilts his head to receive the next kiss and Andy happily obliges, kissing him sweetly and lingeringly.

He knows they're going to be late, but right now they're protected from the outside world by the cocoon of steam and he never wants to leave.

They still have to deal with the fact that rookies and Training Officers aren't allowed to get involved; there's also the tiny detail that she's been broken up with her boyfriend for less than a day; Bibby and his threats are hanging over their heads like a sword about to drop.

Andy pulls back and searches his eyes for something - what, he doesn't know - but she evidently finds what she's looking for because she leans in close again. "I love you," she murmurs.

And Sam doesn't care about any of that other stuff because he finally got the woman he loves, only to find out that she loves him too. "That's very good news," he replies as softly, meeting her eyes. For the first time ever, he lets her completely in, drops all his walls, and allows her to see into his heart. "I was beginning to think I was alone in the love department."

Andy flows off the ledge and into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and touching their foreheads together. "I'm sorry I was so blind and stubborn."

"You're forgiven." Sam also really doesn't want to know what time it is, because he's fairly sure that they're almost out of time. "We really have to get moving." With extreme reluctance, Andy acquiesces and leaves Sam to finish his shower alone with one last kiss.

Ten minutes later, they're in his truck heading for the barn. Andy's hair is wet and she doesn't have any makeup on, but she's never been happier. Sam has flipped down the centre seat to reveal a cup-holder console and their intertwined hands rest on top. For perhaps the first time ever, things between them are calm and content - there's nothing that needs to be said, nothing that needs to be done. Well, for now, anyway.

After all, they finally have a healthy outlet for all that sexual tension and a lot of catching up to do.

Sam catches Andy's knowing smile out of the corner of his eye and feels a corresponding tingle rush down his spine. He doesn't know exactly what she's thinking, though he has a pretty good idea judging by that smile, and he's fairly sure that he is definitely going to enjoy the results.

After all, they have a lot of catching up to do.

Fin.


End file.
